The Circle of Hatred
by Anchor5
Summary: After witnessing the unjust murder of an apprentice at the Circle Tower, Lara Silvertome writes to her childhood sweetheart to confess her love and guilt, before taking justice into her own hands.


Dear Grifton, my oldest friend,

I know we agreed not to write, but that was for reasons I no longer recognize. Tonight I will leave my fate in the Maker's hands, and should I die, I need you to understand why.

Since becoming enchanter here at the circle tower, I've had many difficult apprentices, but none proved so challenging as Tariel. A spry elf boy, he was discovered on the streets of Denerim with nothing but a name and a knack for 'lifting' sovereigns right out of your coinpurse. He was a handful, to say the least, but by Andraste was he talented. He never seemed to pay attention during lectures, and yet somehow he would learn a spell before I could even teach the class how to pronounce it! I'm telling you this, Grif, because you need to understand how much promise this boy's future had. That is, before he was murdered.

"Tariel was out of control," Jorey said to me. You remember him don't you? That spineless creep became a loyalist the moment you left for Kirkwall, just to favour the majority. "What happened to you could've happened to any of us," he told me. _What happened to __Tariel__ could've happened to any of us, _I wanted to scream back at him. "Don't beat yourself up about it." He put an unwelcome hand on my shoulder before he left and said "let me know if you want to…talk."

I didn't want consolation. I wanted justice.

It's true Tariel got out of hand sometimes, but he wasn't _dangerous_. The truth is: he was too smart. None of the basic lessons interested him because he was already learning at an advanced level. His mind needed to be stimulated, not bogged down by simple dusting charms and boil remedies. Instead he found ways to distract himself and, to the dismay of his mentors, all of his peers too. I thought if we intensified his studies, it would help keep him focused, but Senior Enchanter Vicarum simply laughed at the idea of giving such power to an eight-year-old street urchin.

It made little difference to the Templars _why _he acted up; to them he was just a burning fuse. He was certainly a troubled child, but he didn't deserve to die. Someone had to answer for his death, and that someone was Garth.

You were lucky you left when you did, else you would've met Garth Warfield. A former guardsman for King Brandel, he left the service to become a templar some years ago, though his reasons were shrouded in rumour. His roughness towards mages was frowned upon by even the knight-commander, yet his connections to the crown always got him out of trouble. "I did what I had to do" he stated, "that elf put _both_ our lives in danger!"

"How!" I was appalled at how well he deceived himself.

"I don't understand how you can defend that little shit, after what he did to you!"

"It was just a prank; I was never in any harm."

"You don't know that. Tariel was disobedient, unpredictable, and an abomination waiting to happen. Who knows what havoc he could've wrought if I hadn't stopped him in time."

"He was a defenceless child, and you beat him to death with an iron fist!" I could barely keep myself from crying, I was such a mess, but his soldier's face portrayed nothing but indifference. "Did you think his death would somehow avenge your wife?"

"…What did you say?" he replied.

"That's why you left the palace to become a templar, isn't it? I suppose killing the apostate who murdered her wasn't satisfying enough."

Garth began fuming. He pushed me into the wall and choked me with the edge of his gauntlet. "You'd dare speak of my _wife_. A tainted witch like you doesn't have the _right_! To speak of someone so pure, and so beautiful, who spent her last moments unable to move or scream, while some _man_ crept around and... and..."

It made perfect sense at that point. It wasn't me he saw lying on the floor of the lecture hall, it was _her_. "I've devoted the rest of my life to protecting the world from monsters like him, and this is the thanks I get?" He removed his arm from my neck and at last I could gasp for air.

"You know, it was a little strange how Tariel was able to perform such advanced spells at his age," he continued, "perhaps he received a little _extra_ training?" I fell to my knees, exhausted; for a moment I thought he would kill me right there. "I also seem to recall a certain enchanter who wanted to bolster his studies. I wonder what the Knight Commander would think about that."

He picked me up off the floor with strength like an ogre and whispered in my ear "if you so much as _mention _my wife again, you'llfind yourself _begging_ for the rite of tranquility."

The next morning a hearing was conducted. The first and senior enchanters gathered in the great hall with their templar overseers to discuss what happened, and several of Tariel's fellow apprentices were called forth to confess. "It was Tariel's idea, we didn't mean for it to happen." All their stories were the same; Tariel distracted them too much to pay attention to Enchanter Silvertome's lecture. When she left the room, it was his idea to set the trap for her, and despite their loyal objection, his magic was too powerful and overwhelmed them. It was a convenient fantasy, no doubt frightened into them by the templars.

Next they interrogated Garth. He gave them the same excuses he gave me; that the elf boy was beyond control and had to be stopped. He even expressed his tremendous admiration for "Miss Silvertome's bravery in the face of such adversity," and that he regretfully had no choice but to subdue the apprentice by force when finally cornered in the tower storerooms. He greatly exaggerated Tariel's 'unholy' abilities, describing the menacing storms of fire and ice he conjured, which may have been the product of blood magic. It made me sick listening to his lies, but none so much as listening to my own.

"Enchanter Silvertome," Vicarum addressed me, "Can you describe what happened during the lecture?"

"Yes. I was discussing the history of the Chantry when Tariel became…agitated. I think he found it unfair how we covered Arlathan history so briefly while devoting most of the course to the exalted marches of Emperor Dr-"

"We can discuss curriculum another time. Please, continue with the incident."

"Of course. Tariel grew restless and began conjuring fungal pustules on his classmate's textbooks. They were perfectly harmless, and the children were far more amused by his talents than my lesson. I lost control of the lecture after that, and I take full responsibility."

"It is understandable, Miss Silvertome, I'm sure every Senior Enchanter here has at one point in their career. We all knew of Tariel's rebelliousness, you cannot be blamed."

The knight commander was next to ask questions. "The other apprentices mentioned you departed after that. Care to explain why you left your class unattended in the middle of a lecture?"

"Yes. I had difficulty keeping the class in order. I threatened to notify the templars, at which point most of the children returned to their seats, except for Tariel. I left the lecture hall and walked just far enough to convince him I was serious. I was only gone for about a minute or two."

"After which you were paralysed by the glyph he had set, and subsequently subjected to humiliation and depravity by the class, all of which was prompted by Tariel."

"I wasn't harmed."

"Did you feel your life was in danger?" Senior Enchanter Locke asked.

I could feel Garth's eyes on me from across the room. "I…don't know what I felt."

They heard enough to be satisfied: Garth had no choice but to subdue the rampant apprentice who assaulted his enchanter, and in the chaos of combat, he _inadvertently _applied too much force in the elf's apprehension, causing his misfortunate death. I was too scared and ashamed to tell them what really happened in the storerooms beneath the tower.

It's true the glyph forced me to lay still, unable to move or speak while my own students taunted and prodded and laughed at me. Of course I was angry, I was _furious_, but they were just children. Even you and I would've jumped at the opportunity to get back at some of our enchanters when _we_ were apprentices together. I was too hard on them, Tariel most of all, but that's not why I felt ashamed.

When I rose from my paralysis I immediately went looking for Tariel, who had been chased by Garth into the basement. When I found them, I saw the boy surrender himself, but Garth merely saw it as another trick. I listened to his screams, pleading for forgiveness, while Garth pounded his armoured fist into the boy's skull. Eventually his pleas turned to cries of agony, and then into silence, but Garth kept pounding away.

"STOP!" I screamed, but he continued like I wasn't there. To him I was but an echo of his fist on the cavern walls. "YOU'RE KILLING HIM!" It was no good. I knew what I had to do, and yet I did nothing. To attack a templar; I'd have made myself an apostate. I was too afraid for my own life to do what I knew in my heart was right, and _let_ him beat an innocent child to death. I kept my silence during the hearing not because I feared Garth, but because I feared my own guilt.

I am not the girl you once knew, Grif. I once had hopes and morals and a good heart, all of which you were the cause. If you loved me then, you would not love the woman I became after you left. The girl you loved would've done something. She would've stood up for what's right, which is why tonight I will leave my fate in the Maker's hands. If the circle will not give Tariel justice, then perhaps _he_ can. After I send this letter, I intend to confront Garth in his quarters, and bring the Maker's judgment down on both of us.

Do you remember that night, before your harrowing? I told you we could never again act on our feelings, lest any distraction put our lives in jeopardy. I thought it would save me the pain of losing you, but I was wrong, for I have died a little bit each day since that kiss, and I'd die again to have it once more. I write to you now so that you will not make the same mistake I did, that _we_ did. If you surrender to obedience to save your own life, consider then what kind of life you are saving.

We live in a circle of hatred, and I will stand for it no more. Should the Maker deem me guilty and take my life tonight, then I just want you to know that my last thoughts are of you. I love you as I always have, and long to see you again; if not in this world then the next.

Yours always,

Lara Silvertome

_-From a letter confiscated in the Gallows of Kirkwall, 8:41 Blessed._


End file.
